Of All the Unlikely Things to Happen
by Lunael
Summary: Sometimes, Zell Dincht regretted ever telling his friends he was gay. After his outing, his life took an unexpected turn when he is one day sent on a mission to a male host club, where he runs into an old acquaintance in the most bizarre of situations. Blame the plotbunny. Weirdness and SeiferxZell Slash ahead: you have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: **_Authoress's comments are at the end of the chapter. U__sual warnings apply: not my characters, not my native language, unbetaed, yada yada. Oh, and this is rated M, by the way. If you're a young and impressionable lad or narrow-minded adult, don't read this. Unless you want to be traumatized – then proceed._

o0o0o

**Of All the Unlikely Things to Happen**

Chapter 1

Sometimes, Zell Dincht regretted telling his friends he was gay.

Suddenly, it became all oh-so-convenient to have Zell around. It was like he'd become their favorite, all-purpose service gay guy. Need someone to help Selphie with Christmas decorations? Ask Zell. He's gay, so he loves parties, decorations and stuff like that. Have love issues? It doesn't matter if you're mooning over a guy or a gal, speak to Zell - he's gay, so he'll give you good advice. A request coming in for a high-raking Seed to bodyguard some spoiled politician's wife on her shopping frenzy in Deling? Ask Zell, he's gay - he's gotta love shopping.

Gotta send undercover Seeds to a high-class male host club in Esthar? Take Zell along. He's gay, so he'll obviously be thrilled to spend the night in a room full of desperate women mooning over stylish men in expensive designer clothes.

Only he was _not_.

The martial artist felt like choking. The ambiance of the host club was sickeningly snobbish: pearl-white velvet couches and fancy glass coffee tables were set haphazardly across the narrow, dimly-lit beige room, expensive-looking velvet curtains and giant orchid trees pretentiously decorating the surrounding walls. The room itself was full of rich, affected women bearing elaborate hairstyles and wearing expensive dresses. The air was stuffy with their heavy and equally expensive perfumes and their high-pitched, crystalline laughs. In the mist of these wealthy women, Zell could make out about twenty well-groomed young male hosts, who were listening to their patrons with complacent, fake smiles, pouring alcohol into their glasses when they were too busy bitching about their lives or giggling to their flattering jokes to notice. In the background, low enough as not to impede discussion but too loud to tune out, girly music played softly - the kind with those terrible watery Estharian sound effects that got so much on the blonde's nerves.

Sitting on one of the little pretentious velvet couches and wearing embarrassing designer clothes he had a hard time not to fidget into, Zell Dincht was suffocating. This mission was rapidly turning into the lousiest assignment he's even been given – it even beat that one time he had to bodyguard the spoiled four-year old twin daughters of a rich Galbadian Industrial and ended up with vomit all over his clothes. Not only did the host club make him wanna pound on something badly, but they had been in there for nearly two hours and their target was still nowhere to be seen, which had him wondering if he wasn't putting up with the snotty bar for nothing. At least, they weren't expected to chit-chat with the hosts – their contacts may have gotten them inside the very select club, but apparently having money and knowing people wasn't quite enough to get to be personally entertained by one of these spruce men. You had to be a regular patron to get such a privilege, though why would anyone go through such length was beyond the martial artist.

Zell let out an irritated sigh and toyed nervously with his too-tight collar. This was ridiculous. For what felt like the thousandth time tonight, he wondered what on Earth he was doing there. Why couldn't Squall have sent some other woman here instead? He couldn't believe the Garden was so short on women they couldn't spare another one, and totally didn't buy Squall's bullshit about this being a high-level, top-priority mission, or Xu's ramble about how the three of them were already a proved team. This fancy bar-thing – this so-called host club or whatnot - was _so _not his thing, and he stood out like a sore thumb too. At least Selphie and Quistis seemed to be somewhat in their element, and they looked the part with their glittering, silky dresses, fancy hairstyles and over-the-top make-up. He was a blonde tattooed gay man in a gray suit with a pink tie in a sea of women – how could he _not_ stand out?

They could have at least picked up Irvine instead – the man was practically a living host himself, he'd have fit in all right. _He_ wouldn't have looked ridiculous in a suit for starter, and _he_ would have had no trouble sitting back on a couch for hours on in a sea of bitching, coy women, drinking expensive alcohol and pretending to be enjoying himself. Hell, the bastard would have probably actually _enjoyed_ himself! As things were, Zell had a hard time just staying still and refraining from squirming in his seat. This sucked so much...

He was a man of action. He shined in missions that required quick-thinking, good fighting skills and advanced battle tactics and strategy. He sucked at everything that involved acting skills, diplomacy or patience, it was common knowledge. He was ready to admit so himself! But ever since he'd told them he was homosexual, it was like everybody assumed he'd suddenly become competent in all those things gay guys are supposed to be good with – like saying the right things at the right moment, being discreet and patient, picking up clothes, stuff like that. Quistis said it was nothing personal, that he kept on getting those ridiculous missions because the war was over and that their clients didn't need hired muscles as much anymore. Zell thought that was total bullshit, because if it were the case, then they would have at least picked up the most competent person to complete this team, which was very obviously Irvine, _not_ him. But nooooo, of course, they didn't give _Irvine _the damned mission. They put their service gay guy on the task. _Again_.

If Zell had known it would come to this, he would have stayed in the damned closet.

"Zell, you could at least _try_ to look happy to be here," Quistis scolded him under her breath as she took a sip of her (outrageously expensive) red wine glass. "You're drawing attention on us."

"Of course I am, I'm the only guy in here who isn't a damned host. Man, we've been here forever, where is this woman?"

"She should be showing up pretty soon," their team-leader Selphie piped in, her voice surprisingly mission-like considering the girlish smile she was wearing. "According to the file, she's one of the regular patrons. She probably has her own assigned host, so we can expect her to turn in shortly before they do. I gather they show up around 11p.m."

"Wait. If hosts show up at eleven o'clock, who are these guys then? Walk-ons?" Zell asked quizzically, and Selphie dismissed the comment with a wave of her petite hand.

"These are just decorative. They're sort of the opening act; the real attraction is the senior hosts." Zell's blank look got him a genuine smile from the brunette. "They're the most popular hosts of the moment, really. The ones patrons are ready to spend a fortune on."

"I don't even want to know why you know all this stuff."

"There she is," Quistis cut them softly, "seven o'clock, the purple dress."

Reaching out for his glass, Zell discreetly checked out their target, a middle-aged woman flanked by two grim-faced bodyguards. A pedantic groom was already guiding her toward one of the secluded love seats on the left side of the room. Looking awkward, the two guards remained by the entrance, standing next to the club's private security agents, routinely scanning the room for threats. Her gorillas were obviously not allowed to follow their mistress into the patron lounge, which was the first good news of the night. This would make it marginally easier for them to get closer to the woman and find her informant. Things were finally looking up.

Pretending to be chatting idly, the group of Seeds spied discreetly on the middle-aged woman and watched as one of the junior hosts appeared out of nowhere to entertain her. She rewarded his efforts with a polite smile, but kept on glancing at the massive velvet curtains on the other end of the room. Zell figured she was waiting for her informant, but when the lights suddenly got a little brighter and every patrons' head turned toward the curtains, he understood she'd been simply waiting for her favorite to show up. As on cue, more hosts started pouring out of the curtains, to the patrons' delight, the room shuddering and buzzing with excitement at their sight.

There were about a dozen senior hosts, all of whom were wearing elegant and expensive-looking tailored black suits with one single, pearly-white rose standing in their front pocket. They all had stunning good looks, though Zell personally found most of them too lanky, too smooth and spruce to be truly attractive. He liked his men masculine and sturdy, thank you very much. But he could easily see what these rich and capricious women saw in these pretty men and their disarmingly charming manners. Obviously, they were luxury objects. Expensive fantasy material, often half the age of their patrons, for women who already had everything money could buy. In a way it made sense, but that thought did little to improve the martial artist's appreciation for the hosting business in general.

The senior hosts quickly went to their assigned patrons and started to work their magic on the wealthy, fanciful women who hired their company for the night. Their target was joined by a tall, long-faced dark-haired man who chat her into buying an expensive bottle of champagne in no time, one of the waiters bringing the alcohol so he could pour it to his patron. Soon enough, alcohol was flowing freely and the room was filled with even more high-pitched laughers and coy giggles coming from tipsy patrons. Now and then, some of the senior hosts would get up and visit another group of patrons, a junior host rapidly filling the void they left, not unlike a bunch of bees and bumblebees looking for nectar to pick up.

"I don't see her meeting her contact here," Quistis said with a smile into her glass a few hours later. "Anyhow, she doesn't seem close to be leaving this love seat any time soon."

"Perhaps she'll meet her informant in the lady's room," Selphie suggested without conviction.

"Or the _host_ could be her contact," Zell said skeptically, feeling irritated and restless. At that point, the middle-aged woman was giggling drunkenly to her stylish male companion, looking increasingly flushed. "Or maybe she's a really good actress and she's only pretending to be drunk. Look, it's past 3 a.m. Whoever her informant is, obviously she's not going to be meeting him tonight."

Quistis sighed. "Perhaps. But we have to stay to make sure." Zell groaned loudly, which earned him a pointed, disapproving look from his ex-instructor.

"Damn it, why can't Estharian clubs close down at 3a.m., like everywhere else? They think they're too good to respect conventions, or what?"

"Zell..."

Beside them, Selphie's eyes suddenly widened comically, and she gasped. "Oh! I can't believe it!"

"What?"

For a moment, she just gaped blankly at a group of younger women a dozen of feet in front of them, looking thoroughly shocked. "It's- it's...! Look! It's _him_! At four o'clock!"

Puzzled, turned around and stared curiously at the group of tipsy women and their feminine-looking, brown-haired junior host. "Who? The lanky brunette?"

"Behind them, dummy! The couch on the right!"

Stretching his neck, Zell eyed curiously at the couch in question, which was occupied by three women in their prime and a tall, broad-chested senior host with unruly, short blond locks. Zell was about to ask what was the big deal when the host turned his head and he got a sight of the man's face. Right then, his jaw hit the floor, breath knocked out of him. Beside him, Zell heard Quistis gasp, but he was simply too busy gaping in stunned silence to care.

For twenty feet away from them, in an expensive senior host suit, was sitting the one and only Seifer Almasy.

The martial artist was vaguely conscious that Selphie was making some sort of incredulous comment next to him, but he was still too shocked to process further information. He was wearing his blond hair a tad longer than he had the last they had met, but there was no doubt, it was Seifer Almasy alright. The man had his ocean-coloured eyes and his distinctive chiseled facial features. He had the same exceptionally manly built that set him aside most men even among professional mercenaries and trained soldiers. He even wore the same unmistakable scar the gunblade user had gotten from Squall before the war broke out.

Yet, it couldn't be Seifer Almasy. Zell Dincht had known the gunblade user most of his life, and he could feel it in every fiber of his body – this wasn't Seifer Almasy. This handsome man who was looking and acting so engaging, with his warm eyes and his casual, suave smile simply couldn't be his childhood bully. Zell stared in utter disbelief as he watched a tipsy women bend forward to mutter something in the blonde's ear and saw the blonde start to chuckle –chuckle!- like a high class gentleman. Seifer Almasy,being nice andcharming? Smiling? _Chuckling_?! Had they landed in an alternative dimension or what? The martial artist felt it could start raining chocobos any minute – hell, it would make more sense to him than a nice, chuckling Seifer Almasy!

Torn between morbid fascination and stunned incredulity, Zell Dincht stared open-mouthed at the eerie Seifer-looking host. Beside him, he could tell his two friends were equally baffled, all thoughts of the middle-aged woman they were supposed to be watching long flown out of the window. As he poured alcohol to a patron who had her back to them, the blonde happened to gaze in their direction. As it only seemed to happen in bad stories and in the kind of movies Rinoa watched, his ocean-colored eyes then locked with Zell's, and his features instantly froze. They gaped at each other for what felt like forever, too stunned to move or look away. Then, one of the blond man's patrons put a hand on his shoulder and the spell was broken – Seifer regained his casual and charming host persona almost instantly, and if the martial artist hadn't watched the whole thing he would have never believed it happened.

_Well, I'll be damned. It *IS* Seifer_, Zell's stunned brain supplied. He couldn't deny it any longer – there had been recognition in the man's eyes. Still, he had a hard time believing the arrogant, self-centered bully was right in front of his eyes, acting like a charming gentleman to the benefit of spoiled, fanciful women. The very idea was so far-fetched it seemed to come right out of a galbadian burlesque movie. To think they had looked for him everywhere, only to run into him in an Estharian host club, of all places!

Squall was _sooooo_ not going to believe his ears when he learned the news.

"Bummer! He's seen us now. But what's he doing here?" Selphie babbled breathlessly. "I mean, I figured he was hiding away in an abandoned shack in Centra, or in a grotto in Trabia, or-or living on a fishing boat off Fisherman's Horizon...! But here...? In Esthar, working in a _host club_?!"

"In a way, it makes perfect sense," Quistis murmured, a pensive frown marring her pretty features. "Esthar is a pretty big city, easy to get lost into... Most people here wouldn't know much about Seifer. And none of us would have ever thought to look for him here, of all places."

Still gazing at the tall blonde, who was now very careful to avoid eye contact with any of them, the martial artist shook his head. "Seifer, the biggest narcissistic, self-absorbed, arrogant bastard in modern history, flattering rich old women for a living? How's that supposed to make sense? How did he make it to senior host anyway? With his attitude and all?"

"Well, from what I gather, he seems to... have the right attitude for the job," the ex-instructor said helplessly as Seifer laughed warmly to one of the women's joke, looking dazzlingly handsome and suave. He could see her point, but it just didn't seem right. Seifer not constantly acting like an arrogant dick was like Selphie refusing to go to a party. Or Squall not wearing leather. Or Irvine suddenly becoming prude. You get the general idea. It was plain _weird_.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed down, and the senior hosts left their patrons and gathered up to the curtains they had come out of earlier, smiling flirtingly to the crowd as they disappeared behind the curtains one after the other. The room started buzzing anew with excitement, which puzzled the Seeds. Music stopped playing, and spotlights appeared on said curtains, behind which people seemed to be moving.

"Oh, God!" Selphie gasped, "Don't tell me they're going to...!"

Right then, the curtains parted and the patrons started clapping their hands and cheering loudly, almost drowning the sound of the very cheesy karaoke music that started coming out of the speakers. The senior hosts were lined up across a small stage, smiling seductively at the overjoyed crowd, all of them holding a microphone. Seifer was the fourth one from the left, standing out from the rest of the well-groomed men for he was a few inches taller and was fairly manlier than most of them. The ex-knight smiled warmly at the room, but even from afar the martial artist could tell his smile wasn't reaching his ocean-blue eyes, which were carefully looking everywhere but at them. Zell gaped at the whole set up, refusing to believe this was going to happen.

That was when the hosts started signing.

Horrified, Zell gaped as the spruce men sang in turn, smiling coyly at the crowd, when they weren't flirting shamelessly with it. None of them were very good signers – some of them barely sang on tune, but the patrons didn't seem to mind in the least. On the contrary, they were drinking in the men's voices with obvious bliss.

"Oh love, how could I ever forget

The taste of your lips, the smell of your hair,"

"Oh love, you haunt my days and nights,

Like a shadow memory, smoke in the air,"

"Oh love, the sound of your voice, the taste of you lips,

How could anyone compare?"

"We used to love each other,

To say we'd be together forever,

But you're gone, and I'm in despair,"

Stepping forward, a strained smile on his lips, Seifer began singing, his deep voice resounding across the room.

"We used to say we'd last forever,

And that one day we'd die together,

But now that you're gone,

I don't think I can move on,"

Then, the music picked up some rhythm, and all the hosts started singing the refrain in chorus while executing the gayest choreography the martial artist had ever seen for the thrilled audience, who applauded and cheered on them loudly.

Zell Dincht had gone through a great deal of strange things in his short life. He'd fought fearsome monsters, hosted GFs in his head, battled against a crazy sorceress from the future, found out Adel was actually a girl, gone through time compression, seen Squall Leonhart laugh, let Selphie drive his car and even had a rabid herd of chocobo chase him across Windhill because of Irvine once, but nothing compared to this. Nothing _prepared _him for this.

He felt like something inside of him just broke.

To Be Continued.

o0o0o

**A.N.:** _I know, I'm supposed to be working on my other fics... But, you know. One morning, I was having a perfectly normal breakfast like any good, normal citizen, when the plotbunny unexpectedly dropped by, uninvited, as per usual. So I started laughing like a loon alone in my kitchen at the thought of what would happen if Seifer Almasy worked in a Japanese-style male host club. And ever since, I haven't been able to get the ridiculous idea out of my head, so I decided to write it down as an oneshot to appease the Gods of Author's blank. Alas, in the meanwhile, the plotbunny visited me _**again**_ – it's become a bad habit of late, really – and in the end the short oneshot I had foreseen turned into this monstrous, multi-chapter story. _

_Enjoy and leave comments, please._

_Usual warnings apply: not my characters, not my native language, unbetaed, yada yada. Oh, and this is rated M, by the way. If you're young and impressionable or narrow-minded, don't read this. Unless you want to be traumatized – then proceed. If it's already too late, then it's your own damned fault for not heeding my first warning at the top of the chapter. _


	2. Chapter 2

A.N.: _Usual warnings apply: not my characters, not my native language, unbetaed, yada yada. Oh, and this is rated M, by the way. If you're a young and impressionable lad or narrow-minded adult, don't read this. Unless you want to be traumatized – then proceed._

**Of All the Unlikely Things to Happen**

Chapter 2

Eventually, the song ended and the whole club burst out with enthusiast clapping. But instead of retreating behind the curtains or going back to their patrons, the hosts just stood there, smiling under the spotlights, and to the traumatized Seeds' dismay, music started anew and the singing went on. The second gave way to a third, and then a fourth and a fifth shoddy romantic ballad, each new song cheesier than the previous one and coming with increasingly sickening girly choreographies and special light effects. Every time Zell Dincht thought the whole setting couldn't get any more disturbing, the hosts managed to prove him wrong by adding yet a new horrifying layer of cheesiness to their performance, bringing bad taste to its purest, most evil glittery form.

If the poor shocked martial artist would have still been capable of any form of coherent thought process after the third song, he would have feared this feast of bad taste would leave him with a visual and auditive massive indigestion. But as he wasn't, he just gaped blankly at the performer, too perturbed to even look away.

At the end of the fifth song, the patrons and junior hosts in the lounge stood up to applaud and cheer on the performers, who elegantly bowed and waved at their admirers as the curtains finally fell. Gradually, lights came back, and the room quieted down a little. Junior host and waiters resumed pouring alcohol to their clients and discussions started anew everywhere, except at one white couch in the back of the room, where two women and a gay man wearing a gray suit and a pink tie could be seen gaping at the now curtain-hidden stage, looking distraught.

"Oh. My. **_God_**." Selphie finally whispered, astounded. "Someone, tell me this didn't actually happen and that it's all a very bad, bad dream."

"I don't think any of us could come up with something this messed up, even in dreams," Quistis answered weakly. "This is wrong on so many levels."

Grabbing his drink, Zell drowned what was left of his scotch, the alcohol burning down his throat. A _dream? _Seriously, what was wrong with these women? Even if this were some sort of product of his overactive, delirious unconscious, there's no way it'd be a dream, for the simple reason that no matter how fucked up they were, dreams were supposed to be _pleasant_. A fucking nightmare, that's what it'd be.

"It's so, so..! Urgh! Worst part is, nobody is going to_ believe_ us! I mean, I still can hardly believe it myself! How am I supposed to write _this _down in the mission report?" the brunette wailed, her delicate shoulders falling at the prospect. The tattooed man stared at his friend as if she had just grown a second head.

"The mission report?! Don't tell me that after we've been through this," Zell waved incredulously in the general direction of the stage, "you're worried about what you're gonna write down on the stupid sheet of paper!"

"For once, I agree with Zell. We can worry about the report later – we still haven't completed our mission. And chances are by the time we have, Seifer'll have vanished once again."

"What is WRONG with you women?! Is that all you have to say about this? We've just gone through the weirdest shit ever, Seifer singing and dancing and all, and you're worried about the godammed mission?! I swear, there's no way this job's gonna pay up enough to cover my shrink's fees after this."

Quistis was about to retort something when a waiter came up to them, and the three Seeds snapped out of it, professionalism kicking back in. The smiling, mild-mannered man stopped by their couch and asked them if they wanted to order one last drink before the close-down.

"Actually, I'd like to order something! Or rather, someone!" Selphie giggled, putting on her best naive-cute-girl act. "D'you think I could order one of the hosts on stage?"

"I'm afraid that's going to be a little difficult. The senior hosts are quite in demand, you see."

"Who was the tall blond one? You know, the hottie with the scar?" Quistis asked in a fairly convincing show of tipsy, girly interest.

"Cedrik is one of our most popular hosts. He's currently the fourth most in demand host of the club," the pedantic waiter informed them with trained patience, pointing to a board across the room featuring a list of names.

"Fourth, really? My, he must've been working here for a long time."

"He's been with us for over three years now. As I said, he's one of the favorites."

"I was wondering... Do you think we could get some, hum... _special_ alone time with him?" the blond woman asked in hushed tones, looking flushed but very much serious. The waiter was looking less indulgent and more disapproving by the second.

"This is a high-class hosting establishment, ladies. Though one can buy our hosts' company for the evening, they are everyone's. If they were to get intimate with a patron, others would surely get jealous. Now, if you will excuse me."

As the man left the put out group to see other customers, a woman in her late forties sitting on the couch next to theirs chuckled loudly, eyeing Quistis with amused eyes.

"Don't listen to him, dear," she said in a deep, slightly slurred voice. "Of course, they wouldn't advertize the place as a brothel, but it's common knowledge many hosts get quite intimate with their wealthiest clients behind closed doors. Especially the younger ones – some of them sleep around quite a bit to earn themselves a name. One rarely becomes one of the top five without bedding a couple of rich old women first, you know. But don't fool yourself, my dear – no senior host would ever make the mistake of sleeping with small fry like you. Their regular patrons would look down on them for it."

She was talking about it with such light-hearted amusement that Zell felt utterly grossed out. Holding her breath, Selphie asked in a hushed tone: "Did Sei- Cedrik sleep around to become Number four?"

Throwing back her head and letting out a breathy laugh, the woman eyed them with mirth. "Oh, aren't you the cutest thing!" Laughing, she got up and walked away, leaving a very stunned group of Seeds behind.

"Well. That was... too much information," Quistis said at last, at loss for better words.

"Oh, dear! We run into Seifer at last, only to find out he's a high-class estharian gigolo!" Selphie whispered back, incredulous. "This sounds like some really bad, cheesy porn novel!"

"It's hard to believe he'd... I mean, sure, he's always had a pretty high idea of his self-worth, but..." the blonde trailed off. "Zell, you're the one who's known him best out of the three of us. What do you think of this?"

"Honestly? I don't want to think too much about it right now."

"Guys," Selphie said, her tone back to neutral professionalism, "I think our bird is leaving."

Indeed, the purple-dressed woman they had been spying over earlier was being escorted by a junior host back to the entrance, where her bodyguards and the pedantic groom from earlier were waiting, holding out her coat for her. And if the way she was walking was any indication, she was beyond tipsy. Completely smashed pretty much covered it.

"Should we follow her?" Zell asked, more out of sense of duty than with real conviction.

"She looks pretty trashed," Quistis commented. "I doubt she's going to proceed to the exchange tonight."

"Bummer!" Selphie cursed under her breath, looking indecisive. She glanced at the retreating drunk woman, and then at the curtains hiding away the stage. "Oh, screw this! Come on, we're going backstage."

"What about the mission?" Quistis asked, bemused.

"You've seen her, she's totally drunk. She won't meet her informant tonight, you said so yourself. Seifer's already seen us, so it's not like we'll be giving away our position anyway. We've been looking everywhere for him for five years – I don't know about you guys, but there's no way I'm leaving this club without some answers."

That was something they all could agree on. Nodding, they got up, crossed the room and headed for the bathrooms. Nobody thought much of the two laughing, tipsy young women and their male friend going into the men's room, which was blissfully desert, as one could have expected. Without wasting a minute, they broke the window's lock and proceeded to climb out of the bathroom and into the small dark alley. Zell had to haul Quistis and Selphie through the high, tiny window, since the two girls were having too much of a hard time climbing on their own with their fancy dresses and designer handbags. At least, the martial artist mused, his two teammates were probably very thankful Xu and Squall had decided to send him on this mission rather than Irvine – he had a feeling they would have made quite a fuss about _the cowboy_, or anyone else for that matter, getting such a clear view of their underwear, mission or not. But since _he _was notoriously gay, they somehow didn't seem to give a flying fuck gloriously showing off their fancy undies to him. The martial artist fought back a shudder at the thought.

What was the point of wearing underwear that covered so little anyway? Those tiny lacy things were probably grotesquely expensive too – he'd gathered that when it came to women panties, the less there was to wear, the more expensive the stuff was. And judging by what he'd seen, Quistis and Selphie's were VERY expensive undies. Urgh!

One more thing to add to the long list of things he wanted to never have to think of again when this mission was finally over, he mused darkly.

Quietly and efficiently, the group of Seeds unlocked one of the windows further down the alley and stealthily sneaked into an empty lodge. When the path was clear, Selphie motioned them to follow her down the empty hallway backstage of the club. In less than no time, they found what they assumed was the door to Seifer's lodge, which very conveniently had "Cedrik" written in huge, bold letter on it. Zell had to hand that to Estharians - they really were thorough and efficient about everything.

For all their professional mercenary efficiency, the three Seeds then found themselves standing in front of the door awkwardly, none of them daring to make a move. Zell assumed the girls were just as anxious about the encounter as he was. He'd always thought he'd have plenty of things to say – not all of them very nice - to the blonde when they finally caught him, but now that he was about to face the ex-knight, he found his mind was strangely blank. Zell personally blamed nervousness for it – he'd never been good with words when he was feeling stressed out. They tended to get all mixed up in his head and when he tried to speak, they seemed to jam up and he ended up sounding like a moron whose vocabulary was mostly limited to monosyllabic expressions. Well, it's not like Zell Dincht had never been a refined interlocutor to start with anyway, so he figured he was better off leaving the talking to the girls. With what the bastard had done to both Balamb and Trabia Garden, he trusted Quistis and Selphie to have quite a lot of things to say to Seifer when they were finally reunited. If one of them could just get on with it and open that damned door.

"This is almost too easy," Selphie mumbled, biting her lip as she stared hesitantly at the lounge door. There was a long, tense silence. "Does anybody else think it could be a trap?"

"I doubt it. It took us long enough to get here - I wouldn't be surprised he's long gone. Anyhow, we shouldn't stay in the open like that," Quistis whispered, eyeing the hallway warily. "People could show up any minute."

"So what do we do now?" Zell asked, fidgeting restlessly. "Are we supposed to knock, or do we just barge in? Coz I don't see myself knocking and be, like 'Hey, Seifer? Remember us? We fought against each other during the war, before you started liquoring up rich old hags for a living.' That'd be kinda awkward."

However, before they could make up their mind, the door opened and they found themselves face-to-face with a glaring Seifer Almasy. Air mussed up and tie undone, their old childhood friend and wartime enemy didn't quite look like the well-groomed gentleman they'd seen sweet-talking women earlier – from charming and encouraging, his whole demeanor had changed to annoyed and menacing. Standing in the doorway, tall and imposing, the blonde stared down at them flatly.

"Or you could just get the fuck in before someone hears you and comes rushing around," he deadpanned and walked back into his lodge, leaving three baffled Seeds on the threshold.

Bemused, Zell and the two women quietly followed him inside, making sure to lock the door behind them. The ex-kinght's lodge was small and rather plain, but luxurious and comfortable nonetheless, with two leather loveseats, a mini-bar and a small, minimalistic coffee table. Ignoring them, Seifer made his way back to the mini-bar, poured himself a healthy amount of whiskey and drowned half of it on the spot. With what was left of his drink, he walked back toward them and sank into the nearest couch with a sigh of satisfaction, stretching his infuriatingly long legs with nonchalant laziness. Focusing his attention back to his guests, the blond man glanced at the group of speechless, staring mercenaries with resigned eyes.

The situation was so surrealist Zell even forgot to fidget into his designer clothes. Zell, Quistis, Squall, Selphie, Irvine... Everyone. They've all been waiting for AGES for this moment - the moment they would finally get the chance to ask Seifer Almasy why he betrayed them. While none of them had very fond memories of the blond bully, Seifer was still part of their small orphanage gang, and they had all secretly hoped to find out he'd been somehow mind-controlled by Ultimecia during the war to do her biddings, a bit like matron had been. But whether or not his actions had been his own at the time, everyone expected him to come back to the Garden on his own, because the Seifer they knew was not one to run away and hide in shame. Whatever the consequences, he held his head high and stood by his choices, and he certainly was too proud to lead a fugitive's life anyhow. Or at least, the small orphanage gang liked to think the Seifer they had grown up with hadn't changed to the point he would suddenly rather take the coward way out of this situation.

But Seifer never did show up. So after a while, when they figured he wouldn't be coming back on his own, they started looking for him. For five years, they've wanted answers. For five years, they've searched all over the world for him. And just when they were starting to lose hope to ever put their hands on the damned asshole, they finally found him. Here. Working in a high-class Estharian male host club, flirting with spoiled middle-aged women and singing cheesy ballads along with lanky young men. This was just..._ not how it was supposed to be_.

To be honest, the martial artist didn't know what he had expected to happen when they caught Seifer at last, really. Something more epic than this, he guessed. Like a chase. Or a fight. Or at least some sort of verbal confrontation. But now that the scarred man was in front of him, staring at them with this exhausted, resigned look, he couldn't seem to find it in himself to confront him anymore. This whole situation was just so... _lame_. Seifer, whoring himself in an Estharian high-class nightclub? Seifer, letting them corner him without even putting on a fight?

Life was _so_ not living up to his expectations right now.

Eventually, the gunblade user sighed with exasperation. "I assume you haven't come all the way to Esthar to stare at me all night, so let's just get this over with already."

Beside him, Quistis managed to pull herself together and put on her best instructor frown. "Seifer. To find you here, after all these years. It was rather... unexpected."

"So you mean you didn't come here for me? I must have the shittiest luck ever then," the blonde scoffed into his glass.

"Seifer, what are you _doing_ here?" Selphie burst out, unable to suppress her incredulity any longer. "Seriously, a host club?!"

The scarred man raised an elegant eyebrow at her. "Making a living."

"I know that, but... _why_!? You could have done anything else. You could have become a fisherman, or a truck driver, or hired muscles! Why... _this_?"

"The job's safe, the pay is good and I have nobody to answer back to. That's all I care about."

"So that's it? You humor spoiled women for coin...? You _whore_ yourself for a living?" Quistis asked, disapproval thick in her voice. "And_ I_ used to think you couldn't sink lower than betraying the Garden. Thank you for proving me wrong once again, Seifer."

Zell prepared himself for an outburst, angling his feet into a defensive position out of reflex. But it never came: instead, the blonde's face darkened, his mouth twisting into a bitter scorn. "Yeah well, in case you haven't figured it out, the war didn't exactly offer me shining career perspectives."

"And whose fault is that exactly? You sided with _her_, need I remind you?"

At these words, Seifer's jaw tightened, and he became even more grim-faced. "You say that like I had any say in it."

"Did you?"

Selphie's blunt question was followed by a tense silence, the three Seeds waiting expectantly for an answer to the question they have asked themselves countless times since the war. But the blonde remained silent.

"Well?" Quistis prompted him.

"It's... complicated."

"How so? Either she was controlling you, or you choose to obey her," Selphie's voice sharply cut through the silence of the room, accusations barely veiled behind her words.

"Look, following her had been my choice – or so I think anyway. Only, I didn't know what I was getting into, okay?"

"No kidding," the martial artist huffed.

"So when you tortured Squall and attacked BGU, all the times you tried to kill us, that was _your_ choice too?"

The gunblade user stiffened and further sank into the couch, looking defensive. "I don't think so."

"_I don't think so_?" Quistis's voice was dripping with skepticism. "What's that supposed to mean exactly?"

"That I'm not sure."

"That doesn't even explain anything!"

"Yeah, well sorry to disappoint, but I can't explain it either!" Seifer barked back. "Listen, I still can't tell when my thoughts became hers, or when I even stopped thinking on my own at all. All I know is that back then, it never occurred to me she could be putting ideas into my head. Bottom line is, I'm not sure she even _had_ to. I think she just... used with my own damned thoughts and emotions to make me do what she wanted. She toyed with my mind until helping her destroying the whole fucking universe seemed _rational_. I remember at the time, it felt like the right thing to do, it fucking _made sense_! Only when she died and Time Compression ended, everything went back to its place..."

"... you realized you've fucked up massively?" the tattooed man offered sarcastically.

" - it didn't make sense anymore," Seifer hissed, glaring darkly at Zell.

The group remained silent for a few minutes, slowly taking in the blonde's revelations. Zell had to admit Seifer's explanation did make a lot of sense – he had no trouble imagining Ultimecia using the gunblader's romantic ideas of grandeur, his frustration at having failed the Seed test not once but twice and his monstrous ego to turn him into a very loyal little puppet. And it did explain all the delusional declarations the blonde kept on sprouting throughout the war about "his noble task" or whatnot. As far as Zell was concerned, he seemed to be saying the truth. But Quistis wasn't so easily convinced – she never was.

"How do you expect us to believe that?"

"I don't."

"And that's why you never came back?" Selphie asked slowly, still mulling things over.

For a split second, Seifer seemed struck by the simple question, as if it just touched a nerve. It first surprised Zell, but then it hit him. Hadn't Seifer said she used his own thoughts to make him do her biddings? In a way, it meant the blonde's mind had found a way to _justify_ killing all these innocent people, and the fact said-mind had been tempered with would do little to help many people swallow the pill, as wounds from the war were still fresh all over the world. And while any well-informed person could understand that this was some sort of more subtle – and more perverse – form of mind control, Zell guessed there would be many who would still hold Seifer responsible for his acts. And from what the blond man had hinted, things probably didn't seem so clear from his point of view either. No wonder he didn't feel like facing it all.

Momentarily upset, the ex-knight pulled himself together and put up an arrogant, cynical front. Staring at the brunette with contempt, he let out a small, mirthless chuckle. "What else should I have done? Go back to the Garden and hope not to be judged as a war criminal on grounds that I was a poor Sorceress victim too? What a grand idea. No offence, but I'd rather – what was it, again? – oh, yes - _liquor up rich old hags for a living_. Speaking of which," Seifer teased with a sneer, "the wuss' awfully silent in the back. Never thought I'd live to see a _speechless_ chicken wuss. Enjoyed the show, didn't you, Dincht? _Enthralled_ you, didn't it? I bet you were on the edge of your seat the whole time."

Zell felt a surge of anger flare inside of him. It took him a great deal of self-restrain to refrain from snapping at Seifer, but instead he managed to grin wanly at the other man. "Sure was. I especially liked the part where you danced on the air of 'My Love Won't Die'. Nice manly hip moves you've got there, Almasy."

"Oh, so you grew a sense of humor after all? _That _would explain the suit then. Did you really pick it up yourself, or did the girls dress you up?"

"Shut up, asshole!" the blonde snapped, flushing.

"Ah, that's more like it."

"Stop it, both of you! We haven't come here to argue," Selphie cut them, looking alarmed.

"And what exactly have you come here for then? Congratulate me for the show, perhaps?"

"Acting like a jerk out of self-loathing is not going to get us any further forward," the Quistis cut in. "You know fully well why we are here. You must have known this would happen sooner or later."

"So I'm getting dragged back to the Garden, then? Or are you planning to dump me straight off in a Galbadian prison on your way home to save time?"

"Don't be ridiculous, we're not going to escort you to D-District. Since you were only a student when the events occurred and that students cannot be court-martialed by Garden Authorities, you were simply expelled of the BGU cadet wing for insubordination and treason at the end of the war. While the Garden _has_ been looking for you in the past years, it was never our intent to have you trialed at any cost, unlike the Garbadian or Trabian governments. Of course, there is still much light to be shed on your... involvement in the war, and the Garden authorities, as well as the Balamb and Estharian governments, want you in. It would make things easier for everyone if you chose to cooperate and accept to follow us back to BGU, peacefully."

Inwardly, Zell admired Quistis for her composure, even if sometimes she acted like a bit of a cunt. The martial artist wondered if she'd actually practiced for this moment – afterall, she'd been more involved into the Seifer-chase than he ever was. He wouldn't be surprised she had. She had a way to be efficient about everything, which often ended up getting on the nerves of people – even that speech was the incarnation of efficiency. Precise, neutral, and to the point. Though he had to wonder if it were such a good idea to state thing so crudely to Seifer. Especially that last part. The ex-knight wasn't exactly known for his propensity to "cooperate" in general. Beside him, Selphie made a grimace that pretty much told him the same thought had just crossed her mind.

"_Cooperate?" _the blonde scoffed. "Seriously, you couldn't come up with anything better than this? I mean, it'd ALMOST sound threatening if you weren't parading in that ridiculous _Cevis_ dress you can barely walk in."

"Watch it, playboy," Zell said warningly. "The three of us are fully junctioned, and you're unjunctioned, unharmed and not exactly sober. And in case you haven't noticed,_ I'm_ not wearing a dress, so if I were you, I wouldn't give me a reason to pummel your pretty face into a pulp."

"Oh, thanks for the reminder, Capitan Obvious. Why d'you think I didn't make a run for it earlier, huh? 'Cause I felt nostalgic of our little discussions and wanted to reminisce on the 'Good Old Times' we spent at BGU together?"

Huffing, Zell crossed his arms and glared coolly at the sarcastic gunblade user. "Just cut the crap already. We can bicker here all night and still be at stale point tomorrow morning."

Frowning, Seifer sighed, massaging his eyes wearily. "Fine then, let's make this clear. If I refuse to 'cooperate', as you put it, are you planning to take me back forcefully - _yes_ or _no_?"

"No," Selphie answered in before anyone else could say anything, and the two other Seeds gaped at her, incredulous.

"Whaaaaa-t?!"

"Selphie, as team leader, you cannot take such a decision on your own! We have orders to follow," the whip-user stated rather severely.

The petite woman ignored Zell and stared back at Quistis levelly. "Our orders did not cover the retrieval of Seifer Almasy. Moreover, in case of a run-in with him, all Seeds were instructed that he was to be apprehended only if we judged he presented any threat to others or to himself, which is not the case right now. In the eventuality we were found out, we were supposed to petition him to hand himself in, notify BGU authorities of his whereabouts and wait further instructions before taking any other step. Moreover, our current mission takes priority over this. So, as for now, no, we are not taking him back against his will."

It really was at moments like this that the martial artist understood why Squall trusted Selphie's judgment over Quistis', or even his, when it came down to leading missions nowadays. She didn't look like it, but the cheerful petite woman knew her stuff and could be trusted to stay cool-headed and professional when everybody else got emotional, a quality Quistis, for all her efficiency, happened to lack. And judging by the embarrassed, sour expression Quistis was displaying, things were going to be tense for a while between these two. Which was not an uncommon occurrence, since the blond woman had a tendency to be far too emotional about everything, but it was pain for everybody anyway. And predictably, he knew he'd end up having to listen to the blonde rant for long hours on how much she failed as a leader, shushing her with ice cream, and then taking both of them out shopping so they could made up again_._ If only he'd known that was part of the "gay friend" obligations _before_ he made his god dammed coming out...

Turning her head toward Seifer, who seemed to be inwardly finding much amusement into the petite woman putting his bossy ex-instructor back to her place, Selphie then asked: "So. Will you come with us?"

"Hell, no."

"You DO realize that we'll be back sooner or later with specific orders to take you in, don't you?" the brunette asked coolly. "Now that we know you're here in Esthar, it's not like you could run away from us for very long – we'll find you eventual-"

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking on the door. Everybody froze, staring at the door with surprise. Someone knocked again, and spoke up from the other side of the door.

"Cedrik? Cedrik, sweetheart, it's me, Cecily."

With a speed Zell had rarely seen him move with, even back during the war, Seifer was back on his feet, looking alert and slightly panicked. "Shit! It's my boss! Quick, _hide_!"

"Why?" Selphie asked, perplexed.

"You stupid or what?! If she sees me with a pretty woman here, she'll fire me! Some guys here lost their jobs for less than this!"

Knock knock. "Cedrik?"

"Coming, dear!" Seifer shot back loudly. "Quick, hide in there!" He then whispered to the confused Seeds, pushing them toward a tiny door Zell hadn't noticed earlier, which turned out to be a closet.

"Fuck off, I'm not hiding in your wretched closet. I don't care about your pushy job, you handle this yourself," Zell mumbled back crossly.

"Shut up and stay in there," the ex-knight forcefully pushed the affronted martial artist into the closet and closed the door, leaving him in the dark in an uncomfortable position, his back to two tangled women and a pole-hanger full of suits. The tattooed man had half a mind to spring out of the closet just to piss the blond off – who did he think he was, forcing them into a wardrobe like that? – but for some unknown reason, he held back.

The situation, he mused darkly, was not devoid of irony. Back into the closet, he was. Funny thing was, it was precisely because he'd come out of the damned thing he ended up with this lousy mission – and into this particular, less-than-metaphorical closet. Why had he thought it was such a grand idea to make his coming out to his friends anyway? He should have just told Ma and let everyone else believe he wasn't dating the damned library girl because he sucked with girls. It would have spared him all the stupid gay missions and the ridiculous dates Selphie and Rinoa insisted on forcing upon him, pretending he needed help finding a "nice boyfriend". Nice boyfriend his ass – they systematically tried to match him up with every single gay guy they knew of because they had a voyeur thing for guys together. Like he couldn't tell, really.

And now, he was stuck in a small, smelly and literally overcrowded wardrobe, like some shameful, dirty little secret of _Seifer Almasy_, of all people. All because said dickhead wanted to hide them from his host club boss so he wouldn't lose a cushy job he'd lose anyway when they came to bring him back to the BGU in about two or three days.

This was it. He was going to make both Squall AND Seifer pay for this, he decided. He did not know how yet, but he would find out.

While Selphie and Quistis silently tried to find some space to breathe and moved into a more comfortable position behind him, Zell heard Seifer stomping to the door and greeting this boss of his, his voice no longer acidic but warm and suave.

"Cedrik, sweetie, what took you so long?"

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Cecily. I was talking on the phone with a friend. Can I offer you a drink, my dear?" Zell frowned again, holding back an incredulous snort. It was just too strange to hear Seifer sound_ nice_, he couldn't get used to it. Hearing him saying "my dear" on that mild tone made this whole situation all the more surrealistic, if possible. He would have never believed the man capable of being nice to start with. Rinoa kept on saying he'd always been very sweet and considerate with her back when they were flirting, so he guess it shouldn't really surprise him – except he'd always believed this "charming" Seifer was a construction of Rinoa's love-struck imagination. He wondered if the man was actually making extra efforts to pretend to be nice, or if being nice actually came naturally to him when he stopped being an ass on purpose.

"Cedrik, my boy, are you keeping things from me?"

"I'm not. Where did you get this silly idea?"

"You weren't talking on the phone, Cedrik. I clearly heard you talk to someone else before I knocked on the door. I'm fairly sure it was a woman's voice I heard," Zell heard the woman say through the door, her teasing voice barely masking the accusatory tone of the comment. Stupidly enough, Zell suddenly found himself holding his breath.

"A woman? Nonsense. You know there are no women in my life, Cecily."

"Then you won't mind if I check up your wardrobe, won't you?" Oh, God. Zell didn't like this situation. He didn't like it at all. He wished he could say he wasn't feeling apprehensive right now, but he totally was, which was infuriating. Why should he give a fuck what this rich spoiled woman thought of the situation anyway? It was Seifer's problem, not his. Damn, he should have listened to himself left the closet earlier – at least, he would have gotten out of here with his dignity unharmed, which wasn't an option for him any longer. Now he was going to be treated as some Seifer's dirty secrets. Urgh.

But more importantly, where were those damned Vanish spells when you really needed them?! A quick glance told him that the girls were as helplessly out of Vanishes as he was. Quietly, they hid behind the pole-hanger, leaving Zell alone in the front of the closet to deal with the upcoming domestic uproar. Just. Great.

"Really, Cecily, don't go through the trouble. There's nothing in there." Obviously, Seifer was hoping against all hope they had some Vanish spells at hand too. Well, though luck buddy, Zell thought darkly. Try explaining THAT one.

Irvine would have been soooooooo much more suited for this than he was, Zell mused spitefully. If someone had experience dealing with scandalized, jealous woman, it was the cowboy. But nooooo, of course, they had to pick up their all-purpose gay Seed for the damned mission...!

"Well then, you won't mind me having a look, won't you?" The woman's voice was awfully close, and suddenly, someone opened the closet's door. "Well, let's see what we have here... Oh, my!"

The woman named Cecily stared at him, looking rather dumbfounded to find herself in front of a very obviously male-person instead of the woman she had been expecting to find. Zell stared blankly back at her. She was a small, curvy thing in her late forties wearing huge golden earrings and large horn-rimmed glasses, behind which she was staring at him with alarmingly huge, piercing eyes. Zell fidgeted nervously under her intense gaze, hoping Seifer would come up with a believable lie for this when she overcame her initial surprise and started asking questions. He sure wouldn't.

Much to the martial artist's surprise, Seifer's boss then beamed at him, looking like she'd just run into a friend she hadn't seen in years. "My, my! What an handsome young man you've got there! What a frivolous idea to hide away such a pretty thing in a tiny, smelly closet like that, Cedrik, this isn't like you at all. But do come out, sweetheart, join us! Don't be so shy!"

Cautiously, Zell slowly stepped out of the closet, careful to hide away the girls and close the door behind him before the strange woman could get a glimpse of them. The woman named Cecily just went on babbling excitedly, looking flushed and pleased about something, though Zell couldn't understand for the life of him what she was so happy about. Obviously, there was something he didn't quite grasp about this situation, but whatever was going on, the blonde had a feeling he wasn't going to like it. A quick glance at his ex-bully did nothing to reassure him: the tall man was gaping at the scene with barely-hidden, silent horror, his large hand cupping his chin and mouth in an attempt to hide his quiet distress.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I doubted you, Cedrik dear. I really should have had more faith in you, but I was so sure I had heard a woman – obviously, I was mistaken, of course. I must say," she said to Zell without even pausing to breathe, "I'm thrilled to finally meet you. I wish I could say Cedrik has told me some many things about you, dear, but he's always so secretive about his life, you know how he is. He likes to keep a little mystery going on about him, the sly little thing! My, if I had known I would finally meet you tonight, I would have put on something more flattering for the occasion. Oh, I cannot wait to tell Miss Flaunderbury that I finally met with Cedrik's _famous_ boyfriend!"

_Wait a minute, Seifer's** what?!**_

To be Continued...

0o0o0

**A.N.:** _Yeah, so..._ _Cliffhanger! I know, I'm evil. I have my moments too ;) _

_I wanted the whole story to remain light and funny, but I seem to be unable to keep things from getting serious. Anyway, it wouldn't have made any sense if they just walked into Seifer and went like "Okay, we're pals again" for the sake of what I have in mind for upcoming chapters, so I tried to have them face the issue quickly to get over it and move on... I know, I'm a slave to rationality. Sue me. _

_Enjoy and leave comments, please._

_Usual warnings apply: not my characters, not my native language, unbetaed, yada yada. Oh, and this is rated M, by the way. If you're young and impressionable or narrow-minded, don't read this. Unless you want to be traumatized – then proceed. If it's already too late, then it's your own damned fault for not heeding my first warning at the top of the chapter. Heh._


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